


in the morning hours

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Blood, Romance, Sexual Content, They never left the prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: She wakes up in the morning to soft lips caressing the side of her neck. Feeling weightless and rested, Carol keeps her eyes closed for a long moment, but she curls her hand tighter around the one that's resting against her abdomen.Letting Daryl know she's awake.





	in the morning hours

It's long past midnight when he gets back. Covered in sweat and blood and dust, he slips into the shower room, lets the lukewarm water cascade down his bare, overheated skin. It's dark down here except for the flashlight he brought, resting above the sink and casting obscure shadows on the curtains that flutter in the room, strung up for at least an illusion of privacy.

 

His bones and muscles ache with the strain of today's run, and he lingers for a little longer than he usually does, watching the water run down the drain - first a reddish brown and finally clear.

 

Reaching for the towel, he quickly rubs his hair until it's just damp. His body is next, skin raw by the time he's done drying himself. With a sigh, he puts his dirty clothes back on. He hadn't wanted to wake Carol just to grab clean clothes.

 

The crossbow slung over his shoulder, he quietly makes his way back towards the cell block. Every step echoes in the long, empty halls of the prison, and when he passes the cells, he can hear deep breathing and a few snores.

 

Judith is fussing downstairs, Rick's voice muffled as he tries to soothe his little girl.

 

Even though his stomach aches from hunger, Daryl doesn't make a detour to the kitchen. There's something else he craves much more and that's to fall asleep with Carol in his arms and not wake up until his body decides it had enough rest. He's not needed until tomorrow afternoon for his watch shift, and has plans to make use of that time - knows Carol is off kitchen duty tomorrow, too.

 

He slows down when he reaches their cell. _Their_ cell. He still can't quite grasp the concept of that. But she's right there behind the curtain in the bed they share every night, and nothing in the world ever made more sense.

 

Slowly, he pushes open the door, mindful of the creak it always makes halfway through. Carol is illuminated by the moonlight for a few seconds, her back towards him, and she only stirs a little when the door inevitably announces his arrival.

 

Quietly, he shuts it behind him and pulls the curtain back into place - the only thing that offers them at least a sense of privacy. His eyes adjust slowly to the darkness of the cell and he sets the crossbow down by the bed, carefully puts his gun down on the bedside table. Stifling a yawn, he strips down to nothing, ruffling through the dresser for a pair of clean boxers and a crisp, white shirt. He's never worn this one before and it feels soft and heavenly on his skin.

 

Barefoot, he steps over to the bed, the concrete ground cool to the touch. Mindful not to make too much noise or unnecessary movements, he slips into bed, tugs the thin blanket up to his waist and turns onto his side.

 

His body is ready to fall asleep in an instant when his head sinks into the soft pillow. It smells like Carol, all soft and sweet, and faintly of fresh flowers.

 

_I was worried._ Her soft voice startles him a little as she whispers into the dark. She reaches behind herself, her hand blindly searching for his and he grasps it tightly.

 

_Ran into some walkers,_ he explains with a low, hoarse voice. His throat aches from shouting at Tyreese and Glenn from across the yard where they were being trapped in by a small herd. Gently, he brushes his thumb over her knuckles, edging closer until his chest is flush with her back and he can press a reassuring kiss to the base of her neck. Soothing her as much as himself.

 

She hums softly, a sound he cherishes so much, and it only takes a second for her to melt into him, her body soft against his. Her leg slips between his, mostly bare beneath the shorts she wears, and she pulls his arm around her middle determinedly.

 

_Is everyone all right?_ she asks, a familiar hint of fear laced into her words. He nods against her neck, the growing silver curls of her hair tickling his face.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed by her presence, he presses a kiss to the spot behind her ear - the spot that never fails to make her shudder in his arm. Oh, how proud he'd been when he'd discovered that. Kissing it over and over, bruising the pale skin until she ached beneath him.

 

Those memories set his blood on fire but he's too tired to act on that, too tired to smooth his hand up her stomach to slip under the fabric of her shirt and palm the perfectly warm weight of her breast. Too tired to trail his hand down into her shorts, too. Feel the way her body contracts around him when he touches her so intimately.

 

All he does is nuzzle his face into the crook of her shoulder and pull her tighter against him, sleep and exhaustion already claiming him. There'll be time in the morning.

 

Before he drifts off entirely, he presses another kiss to her delicate skin, inhales the sweet scent of her. Whispers _love ya_ into the pale of her skin and lets her response warm his heart before everything turns black.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up in the morning to soft lips caressing the side of her neck. Feeling weightless and rested, Carol keeps her eyes closed for a long moment, but she curls her hand tighter around the one that's resting against her abdomen.

 

Letting Daryl know she's awake.

 

Last night, she'd barely found any sleep, too worried about him when sunset came and went without a sign of him.

 

But she has learned not to let her fear of losing him cloud her day. Wear her down. They're all afraid. She knows that chances are high that one day he won't return to her. But she also knows he'll fight like hell to prevent that - and that he needs to go beyond the walls of the prison. Not just for all their sakes but for his own.

 

He needs to be out there to breathe and she won't take that away from him.

 

Now, though, she's more than reluctant to let him go. Tilting her head, she gives him more room to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses from behind her ear down to the curve of her shoulder. The skin there is sensitive, a little raw from a fading sunburn, but he's so gentle with her. So slow.

 

It's like they're both still trapped in that hazy place between asleep and awake, and everything feels malleable and lax and she sighs contentedly when his hand breaks free of her own to slide down to her shorts.

 

He trails his fingers around the waistband for a moment, featherlight and almost tickling before tugging them down oh so slowly, taking her panties with him.

 

She kicks them off when they slip past her knees, lost somewhere between the blankets and sheets. His lips are mouthing silent words against the base of her skull, sending little tremors down her spine - sparks fizz in her veins but when she moves her hand behind herself to clutch him to her, it's lazy and slow.

 

It would be so easy to push his boxers down, slip her leg over his thigh and guide him inside of her. She loves it when he takes her like that, completely cocooning her, rocking into her in an almost soothing rhythm.

 

But that's not what she wants now. She wants to see his face, wants to be able to touch him.

 

His hand ghosts over her abdomen, lower and lower from her belly button downward until he finds the warm heat of her. She arches her back, grasping his neck, gently rolling her hips back against the hard length she feels pressed against her tailbone.

 

There's no real purpose to his touch. He's tracing her, mapping her out even though he's so familiar with her by now. A featherlight touch that makes her eyelids flutter. His fingers move against her, slick and easy, and she breathes his name into the early morning quiet of the prison.

 

Slowly, she turns around, his hand slipping away from her to rest on her hip and guide her. They move fluently until he's flat on his back and her thighs bracket his hips.

 

Carol doesn't move to sit up, keeps her chest pressed to his and seeks out his lips for a languid, deep kiss. She swallows his moan, gliding her hands down his sides until she reaches the cotton of his boxers. He helps her to get rid off them and they soon disappear by the foot of the bed.

 

Sighing, Carol pulls away from the kiss, locking eyes with Daryl in the dim light that filters in through the curtain. He looks hazy, mesmerized as he cradles her cheek in his palm.

 

When she pulls her shirt over her head and lets it flutter silently to the ground, he sits up, and just like that he's pressed against her perfectly, warm and hard and pulsing against her sensitive flesh.

 

_Carol-_ he murmurs, reaching between their bodies to pulls off his own shirt. His hands, calloused and yet so tender, find her breasts, kneading them and ghosting his fingers over the stiff, rosy peaks.

 

Sensations overwhelm her and she rocks against him, sliding herself back and forth slowly with her hands curled around his neck for leverage until neither of them can wait any longer.

 

Still, there's no rush when he wraps his arms around her and she reaches between them. Slowly, oh so slowly she sinks down on him, feels every inch of the stretch as he fills her. Her breath hiccups when she's taken him as far as he can go, their foreheads pressed together.

 

It's always a little bit like the first time. Always takes her breath away and makes her gasp his name. He doesn't fare much better, arms wrapping tight around her as he fights to hold still. To give her the time she needs.

 

With delicate fingers, Carol sifts through his hair. She can smell the shampoo on him, can still faintly taste the remnants of toothpaste when she kisses him again, tracing her tongue along the seam of his lips until he opens up with a deep, rumbling moan.

 

She starts moving then, rocking herself back and forth in his lap. Shifting him inside of her and grinding her pelvis against his. Neither of them is chasing their release. Instead, they're wrapped up in each other, arms locked tight and hands roaming over exposed skin.

 

Carol locks her legs around his waist just as he raises his knees for her to lean against. It's quiet and unhurried, his lips whispering sweet nothings into her ear and down her throat, face burrowed in the crook of her shoulder as he eventually starts to move with her. Pushing himself up into her in shallow, slow strokes.

 

Her nerves tingle, her mind soaring as she presses a kiss to his temple to stifle her own moans. Everything in her tightens and she grinds down against him with more purpose, over and over in circling motions that he meets with his thrusts. His hands on her hips are firm, guiding her, but his lips against her pulse point are so very gentle.

 

_Ya feel- I can't,_ he grunts, sucking at the tender skin below his lips and her release sneaks up on her then. The coil in her core snaps without warning, white hot heat spreading in pulsing waves through her body. She clutches him to her, presses herself down further until she feels him so deep inside of her that stars shimmer in front of her closed eyes.

 

He's right there with her, pushing up into her once, twice, three times before stilling, pulsing warm and wet inside of her as he pants raggedly against her throat.

 

She can still feel herself contracting around him, the last shudders of her release rushing through her and it draws another moan and a series of weak, shallow thrusts from Daryl. Oversensitive by now, she hisses, but it all feels too good to really push him away.

 

Out of breath despite how slow they'd moved, she rests her head against his shoulder, running her hand up and down the ridges of his spine. It's always a miracle that he trusts her enough to let her touch him so intimately, and she'll never take that for granted.

 

His own hands roam her back as well, one coming to rest against the back of her head, cradling her to his chest. She can feel his breath when he presses a kiss to the crown of her head before resting his cheek there, holding her close.

 

Slowly, she can feel him begin to soften inside of her, but she doesn't want to move just yet. Is content to stay just like this in their own little bubble for a little while longer before facing the harshness of this world.

 

Daryl seems to agree, humming softly and tracing his finger down her spine.

 

Even when she was young, before her life turned agonizing and bleak, long, _long_ before the world came to an end, she never dared to dream of this. Of something so gentle and soft and warm, so much trust and love that her heart feels full with it.

 

_I love you, Daryl,_ she breathes, splaying her fingers over his heart. It's by far not the first time she's said this, but it means more and more the more often she does.

 

And when he whispers the words back to her, hoarse and genuine, she pressed her smile-curved lips to his skin, lingering there.

 

Locking the moment away in her heart forever.


End file.
